while the two royal guests were lovingly embracing each other at table, he saw the ladies abandon their sobriety, and roll about in intoxication. Cecil had himself invented a masque for the occasion, in which, for a compliment to the modern Solomon, the queen of Sheba was the principal personage; and the other actors were Faith, Hope, Charity, Victory, and Peace. But alas! the lady who personated her majesty of Sheba tumbled helplessly at the feet, or rather in the face, of the majesty of Denmark, who thereupon got up and would have danced with Sheba, "but he fell down and humbled himself before her, and was carried to an inner chamber, and laid on a bed of state, which was not a little defiled with the presents of the queen which had been bestowed on his garments." Nor did it fare better with the other actresses. Hope tried to speak, but had drunk too much; and withdrew, "hoping the king would excuse her brevity." Faith left the court in a no less staggering condition; and when Charity, unable to cover the sins of her sisters, was obliged to follow, she found them, in the condition and action of sea-voyagers unused to the sea, in the lower hall. Victory herself triumphed as little, being, after much lamentable utterance, "led away like a silly captive," and laid to sleep on the outer steps of the ante-chamber; while Peace, not so helpless in her cups as she was violently quarrelsome, most rudely made war with her olive-branch "on the pates of those who did oppose her." So ended the ever-memorable masque invented by Cecil for delectation of the two delicate kings.
But were all the masques of the reign like that? Do not we owe to other and more tasteful exhibitions some of the most excellent products of Ben Jonson's genius? The fact may be true, and the taste continue more than doubtful. Without attempting to depreciate an entertainment which has given us the Comus of Milton, it is certain that these shows were as tasteless as they were extravagant; and it is no less certain that, in an age remarkable for the grandest gathering of poetic genius that the universe has witnessed, Mr. Campion was a more popular masquer than Ben Jonson. In short, one really cannot discover any higher court object in these celebrated masques than that of personal and not very decent display; or feel that Jonson's participation in them was other than the merest accident. Cardinal Bentivoglio seems to hit the point of the matter when he thus writes of the queen, for the
